I suggest you have a seat and brace yourself. We just got the results of your tests, and they are not pretty. You’re a sick country, very sick. Your mental faculties are deeply disturbed and your body politic has — well, perhaps we should pace ourselves.
Let’s start with your heart. Tests show that it’s in the right place but it’s beating in ways we’ve never seen before. One day it slows to a crawl and you seem comatose. The next day it pumps away, flooding your body politic with wild, uncontrollable energy. So one day you feel dismayed, discouraged, defeated, the next you’re racing around trying to save the planet.
I have some advice. Relax. It’s just your heart we’re talking about and our records show you didn’t always have one. So there’s that.
But your skin is giving you trouble, too. Not that there’s anything wrong with your skin. You just can’t stop talking about its color. Black, white, brown — it’s all SKIN.
Again, relax. This is a pre-existing condition, and it used to be worse, but you’ll feel better if you remember that skin is just skin, regardless of color.
Now, then. Of major concern are the arms of your body politic. Left and right arm, each is straining against the other. With each side pulling so hard, you could be torn in two. No wonder you’re screaming all the time. And with your right arm pumping iron and beefing up, you’ve lost all equilibrium. Keep it up and you won’t be able to stand straight. And move forward? Forget about it.
Now here’s another curious thing. Almost half your body politic is dead tissue. Numb, desiccated, flaccid flesh. It just goes along for the ride. Strange. No other body politic I’ve seen suffers from such a shutdown.
But the biggest concern is your head. It seems completely detached from your body politic. It’s not listening to any of the nerve messages your body is sending. Your head doesn’t give a damn about your heart, your skin, your arms, any part of you. It’s just barking out orders, making snap judgments, firing off neurons that make no sense. And there’s worse news, I’m afraid.
The problem with your head came up in the CAT scan. We looked in there and, where most patients I see have culture — memory, tradition, literature — you have bupkis. No memory. No tradition. No lit. No lasting culture. All the CAT scan saw was an echoing attic filled with conspiracy theories, hip hop songs, tire commercials, and YouTube comments.
I know, I know, that’s physically impossible, but that’s what’s up there. Here you are racing around, shouting, screaming, and all this frenzy is pure reflex. You no longer have a brain. Or at the very least, what brain you do have is on the verge of derangement.
How did all this happen? Well, your relentless binges might have something to do with it. Spending half the day in front of a screen, gobbling up all that hatred, believing every last lie you hear. Ever hear of CGS — Chronic Gullibility Syndrome? TTI — Traumatic Truth Injury? Skeptic infection? Cancer of the Empathic Gland? Well you have all of these. Any two can be fatal to the body politic.
What? Is there any good news? Well, yes. Your legs. You seem to be marching more than ever, and that’s a healthy sign. Your mouth is in great shape from all its flapping. My hope is that if you put yourself on a rigorous plan combining the two — marching and speaking out — your body politic might have a future. But at the moment ...
So that’s it. I see here that your insurance has been canceled. See the receptionist and maybe we can work out a few years of monthly payments. And try not to worry.
Bruce Watson can be reached at breadandroses22@yahoo.com.